Dead Men Still Tell Tales
by Heroicagal
Summary: A series of bizarre murders has left Ducky acting strangely. Gibbs sends in the team to investigate and a whole new side of Doctor Donald "Ducky" Mallard comes to light for everyone to see as the past once again comes back to plague their seemingly unassuming Medical Examiner.
1. Act I

**Act I: Dead Men Still Tell Tales, or a Fall Down Memory Lane**

" _Man works his whole life. Dedicates himself to his job. And he has nothing to show for it."_

" _How does that make you feel?"  
"Afraid."_

 _Agent Anthony DiNozzo and Doctor Rachel Cranston in "A Man Walks into a Bar"_

"Well my friend, it appears we have had a rather busy week. First the young lady, brought in by a gunshot wound with a specialized pistol that even Abby has trouble identifying. What was her name again?" Ducky mused as he worked on the new body in front of him. He was trying to ignore the lingering feeling of familiarity with the corpse by perhaps embracing it. Acknowledging and dwelling on the alternative was something he wasn't ready to do yet. "Ah yes, Annette Dale. Beautiful young woman, such a shame that we had to be acquainted in this way. And after the next day, we found another officer murdered after a prolonged torture session. Death by hanging I believe. His name was Matthew Seymour, Petty Officer with a bright future and career ahead of him, another tragedy." Doctor Mallard continued to slice away into the new cadaver. Anything to keep his rapidly racing mind from reaching the conclusion he was hoping to avoid. It didn't work.

"Now this could be chalked up to coincidence if it weren't for the next body, one Isaac Kurtis. He worked in the lab, specifically in scientific research for the government. I don't know yet as to what he did, my security clearance isn't quite what it once was but I can guess generalities. His death was stranger than the first two. Ear drums were burst before death, due to sound waves assaulting them at deadly decibels. Perhaps the scientist was done in by his own creation." Ducky mused as his mind put together the puzzle pieces. "Which leaves us you. The fourth body found neatly gift wrapped and waiting for us in a surprise location with directions to be sent to NCIS headquarters in four days. The man who took your life has been keeping us rather busy. Your men, they mourn your loss Officer Nathaniel Sole. You touched their lives greatly. A good commander, decent in every regard besides some rumors of a less than monogamous romantic life. Why should you be a target? And a rather nasty way to go as well. Electrocuted to death, how very nasty indeed." He paused as he noticed something for the first time. He had been so lost in thought and eager to get the examination done that it had gone completely unnoticed. Upon his right wrist there was a tattoo. It was fresh, not even a full two days old and most likely given post-mortem. The symbol that had branded the body of the dead commander was more than enough to confirm what Doctor Donald Mallard had been dreading. The messages on each of the bodies had been tailored, the calling cards as distinctly chosen as the victims.

All of this was arranged for someone's benefit. Ducky believed he knew who, but he had been trying to ignore that, hoping to avoid the answer, but this was the final straw. There upon Officer Nathaniel Sole's wrist was a crest. It was a small bird in flight, a very specific bird to be precise. A common breed, not particularly noteworthy nor dangerous if you lacked the experience that Doctor Mallard had. And this last body was a cruel twist of the metaphorical knife in more ways than one as memories of another session of electrocution lingered in his thoughts before he turned them back to the tattoo.

Someone had branded the officer with a thrush upon his right wrist. And the message left with each of the bodies- _Hello again dear uncle—_ made perfect sense. Even if he was the only one who knew how or where to look, it brought many things to light and then posed one more question. What was he to do now?

* * *

"Are you sure that he cannot be reached at this time? A conference you say?" Gibbs heard Ducky quietly talking into his phone down in autopsy. "Well, leave him a message then. The usual pleasantries must be disregarded in this case and tell him that it has to do with a family emergency." There was a moment's pause. "Yes, I am aware of how he might take that. Reassure him I am alright, and then relate the information. Thank you." He hung up swiftly, now noticing his friend who had just entered the room.

"Ah, Jethro. I'm afraid I don't have much else to tell you except for one development in our case concerning out latest victim." Doctor Mallard went over to the autopsy table as Gibbs followed behind him.

"Any problems at home Duck?" Jethro cut him off. Ducky looked quizzical or at least tried his best to look innocent.

"I'm not sure what you mean."

"I heard you just a second ago. Family emergency you said?" Gibbs reminded him and Ducky pretended to just now grasp what he meant.

"Ah yes, just some problems with a distant uncle and a wayward cousin who is available in spotty intervals at best. Now to the problem of the bodies, I am afraid I have little to add other than our victims were, as suspected, targeted and killed methodically. It is obvious that they were meant to send a message."

"But to who Doctor? That's the real question. You got any idea as to motive, connection, anything? Can you profile this psycho?" Gibbs questioned and he noticed that Ducky actually seemed a bit off put at the suggestion. Normally he was just as willing and eager to put in his two cents (and more), but something about this was making him twitchy. You'd have to know the doctor really well to see it, but since Jethro had known him as a close personal friend for over a decade he was able to see beyond the exterior he was portraying and into the nervousness he was hiding.

"I believe they want attention Jethro. They are sending a message and expect to be heard, if this be the only way to get through to the recipient so be it." Ducky sighed warily and Gibbs made a mental note.

"This 'uncle' they were talking about? Seems like you're not the only one with family problems Duck…What's that?" He noticed the bird on Officer Sole's wrist and turned to the ME. "You didn't mention that in your preliminary findings."

"That's because I missed it." At the look of surprise on his friend's face Doctor Mallard smiled. "Yes, even I am not infallible my friend. I only just noticed it myself." Gibbs bent over the body to get a better look.

"A bird? Officer Sole had no tattoos and it certainly wasn't one he got as a member of the navy. I've never seen anything like it before."

"It is a common variety of fowl known as a thrush. Not particularly dangerous, though they have been known to, on occasion, attack with great ferocity when threatened." Doctor Mallard related.

"This guy saying he's feeling threatened? Or issuing a threat?" Gibbs wondered. Ducky looked grim.

"I believe the latter is truer than the former in this case. These were no accident and these victims were specifically targeted. Jethro, I know that this is going to sound strange to you but I need to request something." Ducky suddenly became very serious. Gibbs raised an eyebrow at the physician. "Be cautious, very cautious in looking for this killer. If you or any one of your team are caught in his snares, well I don't think I have to tell you the outcome." With a gesture to the table Gibbs remembered a young woman with a bullet wound to the head and a former partner now gone cold. Both of them were careful, both of them were good at their job yet they had ended up dead and under his watch.

"Aren't we always Duck?" Gibbs asked but the Doctor only looked solemn as he walked out the door.  
"Yes, and that's what worries me." He told the gentleman on the table. "After all, so were we once upon a time and look where that got us." Now if only his former partner would answer so he could inform him of the renewed activity in his area. Oh, and that his cover had been compromised. Hard to leave that part out.

" _ **You, my friend, worry too much. What harm can one weekend off do? After all, we just got done saving the world for the hundredth time. Can't it keep itself together for one weekend?" Napoleon asked Illya with a smile. It had been weeks since they had had any time off and Napoleon could tell it was starting to wear on his friend.**_

" _ **Yes, if only T.H.R.U.S.H. understood the necessity of taking a holiday every once in a while, the world would be a much more civil place." He mocked the suggestion in the friendly banter that normally accompanied their discussions.**_

" _ **I for one think it is a marvelous idea, and I'm glad that Rachel suggested it as a favor. A weekend getaway is just what you need to unwind and the Old Man seems to think so too. He's granted us permission to recuperate."  
"And just how far into your lineage did you have to promise your relations to Mr. Waverly in order to accomplish such a feat?" Kuryakin couldn't help but be impressed at his friend's accomplishment in that regard. Waverly hardly ever approved time off unless there were broken bones or imminent death in the equation. Even then it was hard to get him to sign off. Solo smiled with a mischievous gleam in his eye. **_

" _ **Actually, he said that it was more for the sake of everyone around headquarters. They're worried you'll set loose some of those finely tuned KGB reflexes if you don't get a break soon. They've noticed you growl even after you have had your coffee these days." With that he set about telling his partner all they had in store for their joint vacation, never knowing how disastrous it would be nor that it would be the end of their careers as field agents.**_

Ducky made up his mind. He needed to speak with Director Vance about pulling Jethro and the team off this case; it was an unfortunate thing to do but necessary. After all, they needn't be pulled into an age old war that had nothing to do with them all because of their friendship with a less than usual Medical Examiner whose past was perhaps every bit as colorful as his stories made it out to be.

Dead men still told tales and these ones were shouting to the rooftops that Doctor Donald "Ducky" Mallard had been found out, each body sending him not on a trip down memory lane but a forceful shove back into decades ago and a life he had been forced to leave behind on unsavory terms. Be that as it may, no one else would come to harm simply because they cared for him. This, Ducky was sure of.


	2. Act II

**Act II: With Friends Like These You Might Actually Need Enemies**

" _I am protecting no one, Jethro. Look, if you intend to unravel strings further on this matter, I would prefer you leave them unpulled."_

" _No."_

 _Doctor Donald Mallard and Leroy Jethro Gibbs in "Broken Bird"_

"You are _what_ , Doctor Mallard?" Director Vance was completely taken aback.

"I am requesting that you remove Jethro and his team from the case they are currently working. Find something else to occupy their time, but keep them out of it." Ducky all but ordered the acting director.

"And why should I do that? This case falls perfectly into our jurisdiction." Doctor Mallard let out a rather rude and uncharacteristic snort.

"Pardon me Director, but there is nothing that could be farther from the truth. I assume that when you were made acting director they informed you of my rather… shall we say 'unique' qualifications? All of the others have been, I should believe you are no different."

"I was notified of your history Doctor." Vance carefully responded. He wasn't sure what to say to that, as he had been told that the information which Ducky was now blatantly and easily throwing out there was of the utmost first and foremost top secret. Even above most military and naval secrets he was entrusted with, the secret of just who they had down in autopsy was more important than the rest that needed to be kept. That was the bargain struck in having him work with them, and that was what he would keep as Director of NCIS.

"Then you are well aware that I could pull rank on you, but I shall refrain from doing so if only out of respect for you and your office. I came here with a request that I intend to see fulfilled." The fire behind his words slowly started to die down as he added the next part. "I refuse to see anyone else suffer because of me. Not Jethro, not his team, and not you director. No one else will be caught up in these mad schemes." Vance was silent for a moment.

"Those messages you keep mentioning, they're for you aren't they Doctor Mallard?"

"Unfortunately, yes. I do not know how much longer you will have me in your employment. But until I have had the proper discussions with an old colleague on how we are to proceed, I need the team protected and the only way I know how to do that is to remove them from the case and make sure they are no longer easy and tempting targets. I won't have them paying for the transgressions of my youth." Ducky was firm and Vance couldn't help but agree with his logic.

"Very well. The team is officially off the case as of now." Ducky nodded gratefully and turned to leave. "Doctor," Vance called to him and he turned his head. "Why these specific victims and why in these specific ways? You owe us at least that much."

"A rather crude but effective call back to days long gone. Chosen to remind me of some rather nasty business in the past, these poor officers were victims tailored to be ghosts. Their only crime was their initials." With that he stepped out the door leaving the slightly confused and possibly (he would never admit it) exasperated and tired director with the unpleasant prospect of ordering Gibbs to stop an investigation. This was going to be ugly.

* * *

Ducky was down in autopsy working on another case, but his mind kept drifting back towards the one he had all but ordered the team at NCIS off of. It was for their own good, and he did not for one moment regret it, but at the same time he worried about how Special Agent Gibbs would take it. He was stubborn in the extreme and already suspicious of his behavior. He ruefully examined that his masking of emotions was not what it once was, no matter how well he still did at masking his true identity. Even now, that may be wrenched from his grasp as well.

Doctor Donald "Ducky" Mallard had never intended for his life to intersect with Illya Kuryakin's. They were two very separate people who both liked to keep their personal lives their own. He felt as though the doddery and eccentric Doctor Mallard was almost as much a part of him as the secretive, paranoid, and well-trained Illya Kuryakin. If nothing else, Doctor Mallard's friends were certainly very dear to him and he didn't want to see anything happen to them on account of his once alter ego. There was the added layer of worrying about Napoleon on top of all this, as Illya being targeted might just be a ruse to pull his old friend out of the dark. His eyes drifted toward the drawer that housed the petty officer Matthew Seymour.

 **" _I apologize for the hanging, Mr. Kuryakin. It must have seemed crude to you but…"_**

 **" _It achieved the desired effect."_**

The whole affair with the weapon Doctor Febray had developed whilst working under the guise of being threatened by T.H.R.U.S.H. had been one of the rare occurrences that Illya's loyalty had been tested instead of Napoleon's. Needless to say, threatening either one of them was the easiest way to lure the other out.

As he turned back to the body upon his table, a death that was completely natural but the grieving widow had insisted upon an autopsy of the lieutenant to know for sure, the doors to autopsy opened and Jethro stormed in in an unhealthy fit of rage.

"Care to explain Doctor?" Ah, the professional term of doctor. He was very angry indeed.

"Explain Jethro? Whatever do you mean?" Ducky affected fake innocence in an attempt at dissimilation. It didn't work.

"Yes, Doctor Mallard. Explain why, as soon as you finished your meeting with Vance, he called me into his office and told me that we had been removed from the case. No warning, just a cease and desist order. Something about the case having an inherent danger we didn't know about before we took it, and its jurisdiction being shoved off to some other agency so classified that I can't even know the name of it."

"And you believe that I had something to do with this change? What could I possibly have in terms of leverage to convince Director Vance to give over his case? He's just as stubborn as you are in these things Special Agent Gibbs." Two could play at the name game.

"Not when it comes to higher ups. He's been known to stick his tail between his legs and back off on occasion, but I won't. What's going on Duck? Why did you go to Vance instead of coming to me?" He looked to the wall of drawers. "You said that these bodies were a message. Who are they a message to?" Doctor Mallard was silent. "Ducky, are you being threatened?"

"Not directly Jethro, and this is nothing to concern you." Ducky replied evenly and Gibbs had a sense of déjà vu back to when his friend had been accused of war crimes.

"Yeah, Doctor, I think it is. Anything involving my team affects me." A low chuckle came from Doctor Mallard.

"It's a good thing that it doesn't affect your team, isn't it?"

"This isn't funny Duck."

"I never said it was Jethro. Director Vance has instructed you to drop it, I suggest you do as he has ordered. As I said before, this has nothing to do with you Jethro, your team, the director, or NCIS. This is something else entirely and for everyone's sake you need to let this one go." Ducky's voice was low and dangerous and Gibbs actually felt a small thrill of unease when he looked at the shorter man. His accent had changed slightly as well. Less lilting and more thick, something not quite Scottish, but not different enough to be identified as anything else, at least not yet.

"Who's after you Ducky? Does it have to do with your 'family problems'? You need to tell me, Duck. I can't help you if I don't know."

" _ **Come on now Illya, I can't help you if you won't tell me what's bothering you." Napoleon goaded his friend as they had been on vacation for two days now and Kuryakin's mood had yet to better. "You're particularly morose and withdrawn, even more so than usual. Tell me Doctor Kuryakin, what's troubling you?"**_

" _ **My Ph.D. is in quantum physics Napoleon and I never requested you refer to me by that title. Spare me the shrink impersonation. Some of us just aren't as boisterous as you are." Illya tried to deter the attention away from him.**_

" _ **Ah, you're pondering an uncertain future again aren't you? I've told you before, you need to look to the present. I have a full year before retirement and Mr. Waverly has already practically guaranteed that I'll get a promotion at the end of my time as a field agent. Then you'll be in charge of Section Two, and after that I'm sure you'll find that U.N.C.L.E. will still need your expertise for many years to come. You worry too much, my Russian friend. Now why don't you enjoy the beach a bit more while we're here? A year is a long time and I promised Rachel that I'd cheer you up while we were away."**_

" _ **And we can't disappoint Miss Rachel Hathway, can we? Not after you intend to take her out for the evening when we get back." Illya replied cheekily and Solo gave a devilish grin.**_

" _ **Well, besides that, I'm only trying to help—"**_

"Enough Napoleon!" Doctor Mallard barked at Jethro Gibbs who sat there for a moment actually stunned into silence. Never before had Ducky raised his voice quite like that, with such anger and exasperation.

"Alright Doctor." Gibbs said after a moment of heavy silence. "But just one question: who's Napoleon?"

Gibbs never got an answer. Instead Ducky turned his back and continued with his autopsy not looking his friend in the face. It was clear he was dismissed and Gibbs knew he wouldn't be getting anything more out of his old friend. That was what he had an entire team of investigators for he supposed. He would find out what was going on and he would help his team member. No one would stop him.

* * *

"You want us to what Boss?" Agent DiNozzo questioned of his team leader.

"You heard me. All of you are to stick to Ducky like an ex-wife demanding alimony."

"Any particular reason?" Tony asked again.

"Does it have something to do with the bodies and us being ordered off of our most recent case?" Ziva questioned.

"Doctor Mallard said they were a message, a threat. McGee, what were you able to dig up on that bird?"

"The thrush Boss? Nothing really. They're normally found in wooded areas and migrate. The tattoo found on our victim Officer Sole isn't a match to any known gang or serial killer. We're coming up blank." McGee related his research and Gibbs scowled.

"We are, but Ducky isn't. See if you can't find out anything more out while you monitor him. One more thing, this is strictly an unsanctioned operation. Vance ordered us to drop it, so be stealthy."

"What are you going to be doing Boss?"  
"I'm going to be checking with Abby about a Frenchman." With that he disappeared down the elevator and left his team confused and curious behind.

"It's like mom and dad are fighting and we're being caught in the middle." Tony groaned and Ziva raised an eyebrow at the analogy.

"I was not aware of any marital or paternal relations between Gibbs and—"

"Comparison Ziva. Thank you very much for that mental picture." Tony groaned again. They all stopped talking when the heard the door of the elevator open and saw Doctor Mallard step out.

"Do any of you know where Gibbs has gone? I have some information regarding our recently deceased lieutenant. I assume he wants the widow out of his hair. I thought I would drop it off before leaving for lunch."

"Funny, we were all just about to go out for a team lunch. Why don't we join you?" Tony motioned to his partners who nodded in understanding and decided to go along with the façade. Besides, the wrath of Gibbs if they didn't scared them.

"Kind of you to offer, however—"Ducky began but Tony cut him off.

"Great. We'll go with you. We can find Gibbs when we get back." He draped an arm around the ME and led him out the doors with his coworkers filing behind, their weapons stowed in their holsters. Ducky was quite aware of the presence of the guns, but he didn't know how to shake his now three person tail/protection detail.

"Very well. I suppose I could do with some company."

"So where are we going to get lunch Ducky?" McGee asked.

"A little bistro down the street. I especially like their salmon." Doctor Mallard related as they walked down the road. There was silence for a while before Tony decided to take a stab at questioning their resident doctor.

"So, Gibbs told us you found some weird bird tattoo on the body of that officer, Sole I think was his name?" Ziva rolled her eyes at his less than tactful approach and McGee gave a long-suffering, but quiet, sigh. Ducky eyed him warily.

"Yes. However, if I recall correctly that is no longer your case nor your concern. No need to linger on the details, it can drive one quite mad." They took a small shortcut through a back alley, just as Doctor Mallard had usually done on this route and he acted more on instinct than consideration of whether that was wise when one looked at the same case to which he was referring.

"Speaking from personal experience?" Tony asked and Ducky gave a small nod and nothing else. He felt no need to continue the lecture as he usually would with some seemingly random story of when he was once driven mad, or perhaps a politician who lingered on the details of a scandal and that drove him mad, or…

Sometimes he felt that Doctor Mallard's continuous streams of thought were a byproduct of Illya's training to plan for every eventuality, replaced by nostalgia and trivia as he aged and fell into the comfort of a relatively stable and safe life. On occasion action would once again crop up, but for the most part his work was almost mundane considering his past.

"I don't know, nothing like unfinished business to—"Tony paused as he heard a noise coming from the opposite end of the alleyway. Everybody stopped with him in curiosity. "Anybody else hear that?" He whispered to his cohorts who both nodded in slight concern.

"Doctor Mallard, were we meeting someone else?" Ziva asked in a hushed voice and Ducky slowly shook his head.

"Well, this can't be good." Tony muttered.

"Guys, maybe we're overreacting. For all we know it might be a stray cat or something." McGee said and took as small step forward before a spray of bullets flew over their heads. Suddenly he was down on the ground as someone bodily tackled him. He was surprised that it wasn't Tony, but Ducky who had moved fast enough to make sure that none of the stray shots clipped him.

"Ziva, McGee, take Ducky and get out of here. I'll give you cover." Tony ordered. Doctor Mallard was about to protest as was Ziva and McGee who were each about to insist they be the one to stay when there was a low chuckle that came from their attackers.

"No one will be going anywhere, especially not the good doctor. Doctor Mallard, or Mr. Kuryakin, however you prefer to be called, you will be coming with me. We have a few things that we need to discuss." Ducky had gotten up off of Tim with little difficulty, too little difficulty from the level of agility that action required of a man his age and his eyes… Something about them was different. Normally those blue eyes were friendly and sparked of intelligence, gentility, and were almost that of a wise old uncle or possibly even a grandfather who was eager to show you the ways of the world. All of that was gone and in its place: two cold and calculating pools of ice. Even Tony, who had known Ducky for the better part of a decade had never seen his eyes so cold and the transformation was so complete in a split second.

"Agents David, McGee, and DiNozzo, I believe it is time for you to take your leave." Doctor Mallard said softly, deadly. His tone was crisp and sharp, his orders clear and not to be countermanded. And his voice, it too was foreign. The accent had gotten harder and more pronounced, less Scottish and more… Well DiNozzo didn't know what but he was leaning towards more Schwarzenegger than David Tennant like it had formally been. Cold, calculating, foreign. That's who their friend had suddenly become.

"Ducky…" Ziva hissed back and the man who had hidden himself made his entrance with his gun fully extended in front of him and his hand on the trigger.

"I meant what I said Mr. Kuryakin. No one is going anywhere. You're free to test my word, but you will find that I don't bluff. Not in this case."

"What's a Kuryakin and who the heck are you?" Tony asked angrily and the man smiled predatorily.

"So glad we finally get a proper introduction. I believe you'll find I'm the man that your team has been searching for. Did you like my messages Doctor? They were tailored especially for you. Reminders of a mutual past if you will." Ziva was done with talking. The suspect could monologue in interrogation. As she slipped her hand down to her weapon the intruder took note and tightened his grip on his own. "I really wouldn't Miss David. Not if you value the lives of your coworkers. You see, I have a failsafe planned if any of you feel like foolish heroics. That is a very nice jacket Agent McGee." Doctor Mallard closed his eyes in annoyed resignation and the agents around him tried to decipher the meaning of the comment.

"Um, thank you?" Tim said, unsure of how else to respond.

"Shame you had to take it in for a repair, a missing button you said? We were able to fix it right up. You're familiar of course with the design of that button we used, aren't you Doctor Mallard?" Ducky looked unemotionally at the man and drawled his response with just as little emotion.

"If you mean am I aware of the damage the explosive you have planted on young Agent McGee can do, then yes. I am quite aware as you surely know. I designed it."

"You aren't even trying to hide anymore, are you Mr. Kuryakin? Wise of you I suppose, the wrong answer would've gotten one of your young friends shot. You see, they're only useful to us if you are indeed formerly one Illya Nickovetch Kuryakin. Otherwise, they are of no value."  
"I am quite aware of how you and your organization view my colleagues. You have no more decency in you than your fascist and delusional founders. Your ranks change, the causes you decide to back alter, but your goal never does and there are always foolish, selfish men willing to march to the beat of chaos and continue to trample upon that which is civil. Whether or not I am indeed the man you seek it is quite obvious who _you_ are." Tony, Ziva, and Tim sat there as a heavy silence overtook them all. McGee was sweating slightly, unsure of whether the threat was real or not. There was no way that an explosive that powerful could be hidden in so small a vessel…right? And Tony and Ziva, they felt it better to be safe than sorry. Nobody moved.

"Well, perhaps a name will better jog your memory as to who you are. Mine is Viktor, named for my father of course. You and I have unfinished business in that case alone, never mind T.H.R.U.S.H." It appeared this was a personal vendetta then, along with a professional one.

"Now if you will all stay as still as possible, I promise that I will not set poor Agent McGee off." Tony scoffed a bit.

"Who do you think you are, the next Bond villain? Real convincing pal—"

"Enough Anthony." Ducky said harshly enough that Tony stopped as Doctor Mallard eyed the now slightly panicked Timothy McGee. He scowled slightly at the offending clothing item and then turned to the man who had identified himself as Viktor. "I am your desired target, the others know nothing of what you seek. Release them and I will go with you quietly." Viktor actually smiled at the offer.

"I do believe you would, Doctor Mallard. You see, we discovered long ago that the man who supposedly had no fear, no weaknesses, nothing that could stop him was all but a sham. All it took was one misplaced explosive and your world came tumbling down. Not so strong without your partner to back you up, are you Kuryakin? That was always the problem with you U.N.C.L.E. agents, you relied too heavily on your partners. T.H.R.U.S.H. knows no such weakness." Doctor Mallard had tensed after that comment about the misplaced explosive and a missing partner but his friends were at a loss as to what their attacker was talking about. "No, I think we will be taking your young friends with us. You portray yourself as cold and illusive but it is obvious that you at least care for their safety. Perhaps they can loosen your tongue or on the proper occasion stay it. Your wit is still legendary Doctor, but I think you might be inclined to curb it given the proper incentive."

Viktor, as he had declared himself to be, had switched the clip in the base of his gun around as he was talking and Ducky had again scowled in annoyance.  
"Sweet dreams agents one and all. I'm sure 'Ducky' will be more than willing to answer your questions when you wake up. I'd say he owes you an explanation. And stay still please, chunks of dismembered humans are so hard to clean up. Trust me, I know this from experience. I would hate to have to wash Agent McGee out of my nice new suit." With that he shot each of them with a tranquilizing dart from a Walther P-38 U.N.C.L.E. special that Illya had instantly recognized. They were all rendered unconscious with the threat to Tim keeping them still out of caution on the off chance he truly wasn't lying about the explosives. One question lingered in the minds of the NCIS agents: who exactly was the man they had known for years as Doctor Donald "Ducky" Mallard?


	3. Act III

**Act III: Illya's Waterloo**

" _I'm surrounded by death, Jethro. I wanted to deal with the personal loss myself." Doctor Mallard in "Double Identity"_

" _ **What I am going to do with you, Mr. Solo?"**_ Being unconscious for Illya hadn't been

a reprieve in years. Too many troubles haunted his dreams. Too many reminders of days long past and mistakes he couldn't fix. Too many memories.

" _ **Kill him."**_ Came the obvious answer, one that still had the power to twist his stomach into knots. But not nearly as much as the response he had to give. It was always the same, this particular nightmare. The call and response echoing incessantly in his skull. Each time he remembered what he had done the disgust and horror he had felt saying the next words reappeared as vividly as it had in that discussion with Brown.

" _ **Of course. But slowly. My way."**_ It always made him sick when those words resurfaced. How could he ever have done this? And to Napoleon no less?  
Illya Kuryakin was no stranger to torture nor towards the use of it to achieve mission goals when it was absolutely and quite regrettably necessary, but somehow it just wasn't the same when you had to perform the grotesque and horrific task on an ally. And Napoleon had always been much more than just another ally. He tried to wake himself before he remembered the cries of pain, the look of utter dread and slight underlying accusation his friend had given him before he had been forced to commence with what he considered one of the biggest regrets of his life… He couldn't stand to see that one more time.

Jethro had once commented that Doctor Mallard was a man of unknown depths. Tread lightly upon those waters, he had once warned a group of police officers who had shared their investigation on one of the rare occasions he was forced to concede to a joint investigation and there had been some strife between the usually conciliatory ME and the men who tried to brush him aside. The youngest among them had snorted derisively, and it was foolish when you considered the truth. But then again, Special Agent Gibbs was a different breed of man. Capable of reading that which you wanted kept hidden. Or perhaps it only took one soldier to know another. Illya only hoped that he never knew the extent of those hidden depths. Even Jethro Gibbs would be stunned by what he found.

But why was he even unconscious to begin with? Illya's mind was racing, trying to catch up with the past few hours and draw back from the past. Something had happened to trigger these memories, what had it been?

" _ **Excellent Mr. Solo. You are just in time. You are just in time to join Mr. Kuryakin in death."**_

The name Viktor came to mind as he ruminated upon his predicament.

" _ **Named after my father of course."**_ And just like that Illya remembered everything and even had a good idea of why he was where he was.

"Ducky, c'mon Ducky. Boss is going to kill me if your dead and that'll be two deaths on his conscience. You don't want that do you?" A young man was shaking him, trying to wake him up.

"Tony, if he hasn't woken up by now, what makes you think that's going to work?" Tim McGee asked, irritated and a teeny bit nervous about the situation they found themselves in. Not that he would ever admit that.

"Sorry McBomb. Got any better ideas?" Ah yes, the explosive that Illya had engineered had once again backfired on him. There was a reason that Napoleon had discontinued their use following their last assignment.

"Maybe he's got a tracking device in his shoe." McGee deadpanned.

"That does not seem like the most practical place—"Ziva started.

"Oh come off it McGee. Does he look like Sean Connery to you? This is _Ducky_ we're talking about. He still has a flip phone." Tony interrupted, knowing Ziva was missing the Bond reference.

"Well, sorry if I thought it in the realm of possibility that a guy who has been living a double life might have a few more tricks up his sleeve." Tim shot back.

"I told you, this is Ducky. The idiot who grabbed us has got him mixed up with some old legend we're told in training so we have an impossible ideal to inspire to. I mean, come on, do you really think a Russian was ever paired with an American to save the world in the middle of the cold war? And that this mystical organization the U.N.C.L.E. actually exists? Next you're going to say that you ran into Captain Kirk on your way into work this morning. Cheesy spy legends from the sixties at the height of Red Scare paranoia, that's all those stories are. That's what Kuryakin is: a myth." How much Illya wished he could assure Tony that was true. It was the perfect cover story after all, your name going down in history as nothing but a legend. Timothy seemed to be tired and a bit bitter. He supposed that was understandable, given the fact that he had admitted to developing the explosive that had been attached to him.

"Then why did he answer that guy when he called him Illya Tony? And what about that explosive he helped develop. Last I checked, MD's deal in putting people back together, not scattering them into little bits. Face it, he's lied to us and to Gibbs for years on end. He doesn't trust us."

"McGee—"

"ENOUGH!" Ziva yelled after she could finally get a word in in their verbal argument. "Whether or not this, this 'Illya Kuryakin' is indeed anything but a legend does not matter. What does matter is that whoever Doctor Mallard may or may not be, he is our friend and Gibbs tasked us with looking after him. We have a job to do as well as an escape to plan. Arguing about this will not help things move along." There were moments where Doctor Mallard saw bits of his former self in Gibbs' team and never was that more present than in the young Mossad agent. A stranger in a strange land trying to make their way, deadly and underestimated. Ziva David reminded him of his younger self. And if there was one thing both of them were good at, it was taking control of a bad situation and while Ziva was doing a fine job, it was Illya who had gotten them into this mess and it was he who would get them out again. Just another part of the job: getting the innocents inadvertently dragged into the affair out of it intact. He was expendable, they were not.

With a small grimace Ducky sat up from the hard cement ground upon which he had been laid. Typical, a grim and dark cell with not even a rack to accommodate its guests. Sounded like T.H.R.U.S.H.

"Ducky! How are you feeling? You okay, you were out for a while." Tony started to ramble and Illya felt sorry for him slightly as he could tell he was scrambling to gain solid footing. "That crazy old guy must be really insane if he thinks that he's going to be able to get away with this…"

"He already has, Anthony." Kuryakin thought it wise to interject and squinted around at their setting. His demeanor was one of nonchalance and complete control, not a bit of worry or much but slight fatigue making its way into his features. Tony blinked and then conceded that his older friend was right.

"Yeah, but it won't stay that way. Besides, Gibbs'll kill us if we don't get you out of here." A rueful grin graced Illya's face as he turned towards his younger companions.

"I think that the opposite is more accurate. And besides, this has nothing to do with any of you. It never has and this entire fiasco is the reason I requested you to be removed from the case. It was for your own protection, not mine." There was no trace of a Scottish accent in his voice now. The façade of Doctor Donald Mallard was gone completely and only Illya Kuryakin remained. And he was not pleased right now.

"So you do know this man?" Ziva questioned and Illya considered his answer for a moment.

"I suppose the answer would be no, we have never met. But it could also be accurately stated as yes."

"Don't. Don't speak in riddles please, not now. Who is this guy?" McGee flatly asked and Illya could tell that he had lost some of the trust that the younger gentleman had placed in him. Rightfully so, but it still was a shame to Illya. He quite respected and cared for all of those on Gibbs' team and the lack of faith stung more than he cared to admit.

"A ghost from my colorful past, Agent McGee. You of all people should understand, being a writer yourself, that some myths are indeed based loosely on fact." The slow nod was the final nail in the coffin and he saw the reluctant acceptance build in Tim's eyes that he was indeed Illya Kuryakin as their abductor had said, the old legend Tony so vehemently denied. Ziva narrowed her eyes in thought but Tony outright scoffed.

"C'mon Ducky. I know you've got some great stories but you can't mean to tell us that you are secretly a retired Russian spy posing as a Scottish Doctor working for Naval Intelligence. You wouldn't be cleared with a background like that."

"My credentials are impeccable if you are truly aware of the organization I represented at that time Anthony. And I have always had a knack for dissimilation. Now, we need to find a way to get you and your team released. Perhaps it would be best if you left the talking to me."

"What are you gonna do, use a laser to cut through the door? Call in the cavalry on your disguised communicator? Face it Ducky, old spy or not you're as stuck as the rest of us. Besides, Gibbs told us to look out for you and that includes watching your back from some revenge driven maniac. What did you do to him anyway, stop his evil scheme to enslave all mankind?" The door opened and unnecessarily dramatically Viktor stepped into the conversing group's cell.

"Not quite. He and his wretched partner did that to my father. I am but an echo of a wrong that must be made right. You just don't know how to properly die, do you Mister Kuryakin?"

"If Doctor Mallard has done nothing but stopped a madman from achieving power, than there is only one in the wrong here and that is you." Ziva responded for Illya who gave her a slight glare at the fact that not only did she take the bait, but she was ignoring his suggestions of silence. If they drew attention to themselves, T.H.R.U.S.H. might just pay attention and that was the last thing that he wanted for his younger friends.

"She reminds me of your spirited Miss Dancer, Mr. Kuryakin. Of course, you picked up on those references in the bodies. AD for April Dancer, MS for Mark Slate—"

"IK for Illya Kuryakin. Yes, yes. I was aware of your pattern and your less than subtle note. But, as you know, I have been inactive for quite some time."

"By choice too if I remember correctly. Why don't you fill myself and your young friends in on why?" Illya remained stoically silent. "No? Very well then." He gave a low whistle and one of his men entered the cell. "Shoot the first one that catches your fancy. Only to injure at first, then to kill if Mr. Kuryakin refuses to talk in the next thirty seconds." The man nodded gleefully and took aim at Tony. Ziva and Tim looked ready to step in the way of the bullet but Illya only barked a sharp command.  
"Stop." It came out clear and forceful. Enough to be effective anyway. Viktor turned to Illya with an expectant eyebrow raised.  
"It is your choice, Doctor Mallard. These three are only here as means to keep you in check and you are but a means to my true goal. You see, your young lady friend was correct. You aren't quite the one I want but I have a vested interest in seeing you repay me as well. Tell them why you are the pitiful visage of a man once proud and strong and maybe I'll leave them be." Viktor smiled predatorily and, seeing no way around it, Illya gave in to tell the tale of his last mission. Besides, it was long past the time Gibbs' team knew anyways.

"What you know of the man named Illya Kuryakin is both myth and truth blended so skillfully together that not even I am sure anymore of what is strictly fact. Years later, it seems fantastical even to me the many capers I was involved in, the close calls I was able to get out of, however near it was to ending in disaster. But there comes a time when all little boys must grow up and the time of romping around the world in a grand romantic adventure comes to an end. Disillusionment is easy to have when your occupation is dealing with the worst of humanity, but it is even easier to give into when you are forced down to their level. There came a time, several times, where for the necessity of the mission I was forced to do just that. The least of which caused significant injury to a very dear friend."

"As a team you have a set of rules you adhere to and one that you hold the most important. It was Rule 1 that I had the misfortune of being forced to break. I excused it at the time, knowing that we were 'expendable' but after the whole horrific affair I was unable to ever look at it the same way again. Risk to yourself or even to strangers is one thing but to your partner…Well, my partner was anything but expendable to me. And the irreversible harm that I caused him was reason enough to retire." Ducky wanted to leave it at that but Viktor pressed on.

"Tell them Doctor. Tell them what their beloved physician did to his own partner. The man of medicine who is really nothing but a butcher." He grinned gleefully at the older man as the younger agents all glared ferociously at him. They could see the pain that this was causing their older friend to relive and while they were all dying with curiosity, they didn't want it to be satisfied at the cost of Doctor Mallard's suffering. However, with the threat to the NCIS agents hanging over his head Doctor Mallard sighed heavily and gave in.

" _ **You just had to take the suggestion of one of our secretaries didn't you Napoleo? One of these days your weakness for the fairer sex is going to be your downfall." Illya scurried behind his partner in an attempt to escape the T.H.R.U.S.H. base which they had happened to stumble upon whilst on their furlough.**_

" _ **More like you'll be the death of me. Remember who it was that they caught first?" Napoleon ducked a pot shot that sped their way.**_

" _ **I apologize for my necessary biological functions. I should've suspected the common false restroom trick." Came his Russian friend's dry response.**_

" _ **Technically it was only a false wall. The facilities worked perfectly well, you just didn't expect them to snatch you in there even when you said the building we were stopped in was fishy." Napoleon reminded him and Illya rolled his eyes skyward. "Did you set the explosives? This place goes up and I say we let the eager little boys and girls back home finish the job and we get back to our vacation. We don't get it nearly enough."**_

" _ **You doubt my ability to place a simple explosive? One I designed none the less?" He asked as they tucked behind a corner to catch their breath. Napoleon gave him a small smile.**_

" _ **You were always good with your toys. Alright Mr. Quantum Physics, impress a simple old cowboy with your fancy doodads." He drawled and Illya made a face at the obviously over acted American stereotype. He had listened to his friend take on many guises but the ones in which he attempted to play the supposed average American male were painful to listen to. In his experience the stereotype fit only a small population but it was enough that most people reacted in a similar fashion as Illya: tuning Napoleon out and allowing freedom of movement in that action.**_

" _ **I believe we are far enough away from the blast cite now Napoleon. How much of the explosive did you have in your jacket?"**_

" _ **Two of the buttons. That'll be sufficient won't it?"**_

" _ **It should be."**_

" _ **Good, Mr. Waverly is going to be annoyed with the suit bill from having to wrench them out of the stitching but it might just be worth it if we can pull this little caper off." Kuryakin rolled his eyes once more at his partner's antics but he smiled slightly in fond remembrance of those many conversations about said suits and the bantering that subsequently followed. With that smile playing on his lips he pressed down on the detonator that they had brought (newly improved and available to activate from a longer distance). The smile was easily wrenched off his face as the explosion was much larger than he had intended for it to be. Shrapnel rained everywhere and a large piece of metal shot through the air and impaled his friend's leg as they ran for better cover. Napoleon Solo tumbled to the ground amidst the wailing of sirens and the roar of the fire now starting in the combusting building, his leg severely wounded and himself unable to walk properly. As a matter of fact, it was something from which he would never recover from fully. Ironic wasn't it? Illya had succeeded in doing what so many of T.H.R.U.S.H. had failed to do: topple Napoleon Solo and with such little effort as well.**_

 _ **Shortly after the incident Napoleon was promoted to Section One and Illya Kuryakin left the employment of U.N.C.L.E. and instead went on to gain a medical doctorate. Except it wasn't Illya who achieved this, it was a man named Doctor Donald Mallard. For all intents and purposes Illya Kuryakin had died that day all those years ago, his life ended with the same explosion that destroyed his partner's career. It was only fitting.**_

 _ **Soon after he encountered Agent Gibbs and found a place amongst NCIS where he was content to live the rest of his life as Ducky, no need for the grand heroics and world romping adventures. A quiet life with a group of good friends and a stable job. The perfect retirement for someone who had left a life of espionage in hopes of a drastic change.**_

"Ducky—"Tony started and then stopped, unsure of what to say to the tale he had just heard. Ziva was looking on at the Doctor with barely disguised empathy and understanding and even McGee had softened in his hostility.

"Yes, tragic indeed Mr. Kuryakin. Now, I suppose you are aware of my intentions in bringing you here." Viktor responded. Doctor Mallard just gave him an icy glare. It didn't deter him in the least. "You see, your friend took something very important from me. I loved my father very much and what did he do? Leave him to suffocate on poisonous gas in a gas chamber." The younger junior Karmak went on.

"I seem to recall that it was your father who installed the faulty locking mechanism. I should know as I was the one that he originally intended to execute in that barbaric manner." All three of the young agents gave Ducky a look of worry and outrage at the blunt admission.

"Hold on, some guy tried to kill you by locking you up in some sort of gas chamber? When was this?!" Tim asked, anger underlying his incredulity. Thinking back to the many times that Ducky had been in danger since coming to work at NCIS he reflected that the man had reacted with nerves of steel. When Ari infiltrated NCIS he had taunted him, when he was bleeding out of an artery in his neck by the sadistic killers who wanted to turn him into a meat puzzle all he done was calmly and forcefully relayed orders to help him stop the bleeding. Even in his recent abduction by Cuban spies he had remained perfectly calm and in control. Really, it was a wonder that McGee hadn't thought much on his firm resolve before. There were times when the gentle and mellow Doctor Mallard slipped away into a much more ferocious and intimidating man whose clothing and normal demeanor seemed like an elaborate sham to hide the man underneath.

"Years in my past Timothy. Something of little consequence in the grand scheme of things." Doctor Mallard—Illya waved it off as another routine brush with death. Karmak scowled.

" _Little consequence?"_ He growled. "Your partner murdered my father. In fact, he was commended for it! Do you know how long I've been looking for you? He dropped off the map years ago. We in T.H.R.U.S.H. can never get a bead on him and he barely ever leaves his office. But imagine my good luck when I find his partner stashed away with a new identity and a new job that left him just ripe for the taking. You Feds aren't as thorough as you like. We've had a person in your department for years and you've just ignored them." Tony scowled at the man who wasn't perturbed in the least.

"Now that you've found me what is it you intend to do?" Illya finally got around to asking the question. Karmak smiled predatorily.  
"Simple Doctor. If it isn't broke, why fix it?"

"Meaning what exactly?" Ziva asked.

"Meaning, I want an audience with Napoleon Solo and the only way he'd take my invitation is if I have the right party favors. You three are here to keep Kuryakin in line, Kuryakin keeps Solo in line, and in the end nobody's happy but me." The look of resignation and dismay on Ducky's face was disheartening. See, he hid it mostly but the three agents knew him well enough to see past his façade. And if Doctor Mallard was worried then there was definitely something to be concerned about.

* * *

"What've you got Abs?" Gibbs asked of his forensic scientist who gave him a small pout in return.

"Gibbs, you promised you'd bring me another one." She frowned and indicated the three empty large cups of caffeinated liquid near her workspace.

"I said when you found something for me I'd bring you another one." He corrected and Abby gave a scowl at that.

"Gibbs, I've scoured every known record (and some unknown records) that have anything to do with Ducky and nothing's taking. The only thing that's coming up when I type in Napoleon is the of the Bonaparte variety." That was pretty shocking. If anybody could find anything about this Napoleon Ducky had mentioned it would be Abby. Suddenly, the doors to the elevator opened and out stepped Vance with a stranger.

"Special Agent Gibbs, where is your team?" Vance asked as he and the visitor walked into the room.

"Out to lunch." Gibbs shrugged as he knew that this was the regular time their ME went out for lunch and his team would be with him.

"With Doctor Mallard I presume?" The older gentleman asked. Gibbs got a better look at him now that he had drawn attention to himself. He wore a crisp, fine suit and expensive shoes like the type DiNozzo spent his money on. In his hand was a gentleman's cane and he walked paradoxically with grace as he had a small limp showing that the cane wasn't just fashionable. His deep brown eyes held a small amount of trepidation in waiting for the answer to his query.  
"Possibly. I didn't ask." The stranger's eyes went from analyzing Gibbs to staring at the screen that Abby had forgotten to turn off.

"Interested in French history?" He asked conversationally. Abby quickly switched the screen to screensaver and Gibbs scowled in response as Vance gave a heavy sigh.

"I told you to drop this case Gibbs."

"No, Doctor Mallard was the one who relayed the orders and we both know it. Seeing as how he doesn't outrank me or you, the orders aren't legitimate and therefore I'm free to do what I deem best for the well-being of my team." The elderly gentleman snorted at that statement and Gibbs glared at him, daring him to let him in on the joke. He gladly did.

"You've got no idea Agent Gibbs. None at all. What you did was foolish and reckless and not only did you put your team in danger but you made life a whole lot harder for Doctor Mallard, your team, your director, and me."

"And just who are you?" Gibbs questioned. "What've you got to do with all this?" The man flashed a sardonic smile and inclined his head.

"Napoleon Solo at your service Agent Gibbs. Number One, Section One. Now that we've gotten that out of the way I suggest we focus on finding out what happened to my partner before he gets himself killed. He's good at tempting fate like that."


End file.
